Happy Valentine's Day.

No chocolates, no flowers, no bedazzle my breakfast for me. Nope, not today. Today, a friend joined me for chicken tikka masala take-out and a jam session which turned into a recording session. 

Hope you enjoy the fruits of our singledom:

(Um, for all you pre-Thanksgiving/pre-Labor Day/pre-spring Christmas music haters out there, you might want to bookmark this page for 10 months...)

Missionary James

My little brother went into the Missionary Training Center this week. My parents and older brother flew out with him in order to drop him off. James stayed just long enough to finish the 2,000 piece puzzle I started and then he was gone. To Benin (ultimately). Despite earlier doubts we've realized that it really does exist. On this planet.

Sending someone off on a mission is a bit eulogistic. Which might be somewhat appropriate in this case. Do you know what lives in Africa? Nile crocodiles. And Honey Badger.

Though James is the sort of fellow who could walk safely between the jaws of a yawning hippopotamus without knowing he was in any sort of danger. No matter where we go he will find trouble and come out unscathed. He's survived being swept down the Salmon in a one-person ducky, almost getting run over in the streets of London, and being washed out to sea in the Gulf of Mexico. On the same Salmon River trip, James was trying to swim into an eddy behind a rock - which he did just fine - but his lackadaisical efforts at getting back to shore just didn't cut it. Downriver he went (again). When my dad and our guide caught up with him, he told them something along the lines of, "I thought it was time I became a man." He was 12. 

I don't think I'm qualified to say this but...welcome to manhood, James. Good luck out there.

Waiting on the Lord.

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." (Isaiah 40:31)

Contextualized in that way waiting still seems dreary...but doable -- a worthwhile endeavor. Unfortunately, as you strive to keep an eye single to the glory of God, as you are asking and seeking and knocking the devil comes to meet you instead. And sometimes he comes at you so hard and for so long that you begin to doubt everything you once believed in. Yourself. Your relationships. Your God. Did I make the right decision? Am I doing the right things? Should I have moved to Salt Lake and stayed there for 7 years...really? Why did you tell us to adopt a narcissist and his lackey brother again? And where the cuss did you go anyway?

That persistent little devil keeps at you until you beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruninghooks into spears because suddenly the slightest provocation stirs you to battle. You're a paranoid pirate and you've holed yourself up in a man-of-war. You must defend yourself at all costs...but all costs means you feel so isolated and empty that you find yourself looking around wondering where everyone could have gotten off to in this, your dark, dark hour. You wonder how you can make it back to the days when you thought, like Victor Hugo's Mademoiselle Baptistine, "If the devil came into this house, we'd let him do his worst. After all, what can we be frightened of in this house? There is always someone with us who is the strongest. The devil might pass through but the good Lord lives here." Because the good Lord apparently isn't home and the devil is not just in your house but in your heart. And he is doing his worst. And you're no longer trying merely to get through the test of time but the test of now. And that test just might kill you. You're the first marathoner and the road to the fourth watch seems impassable. Even if you make it through this grievous ordeal you will probably just lay down and die at the end of it all -- forget about waiting on the Lord.

:deep breath:

...but...just when you're beginning to resign yourself to your awful fate, when you no longer have the strength to fight the inexhaustible and the desolate deep threatens to swallow you whole, a sliver of light reaches your drowning soul. You realize that, perhaps, at some point during your struggle for the infinite your waiting turned into hiding. And once you unlock the door to your gray room and meagerly call out, "Here am I," you hear the response, "Be still and know that I am God." (D&C 101:16)

Your futile flailing is over. The devil is gone. The fourth watch is here. And all you have left to say is, "Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay close by me forever, and love me, I pray." Please stay. Because you don't know how many more watches you will be rowing through before this storm is gone forever.

But, of course, this is all purely speculation. 

What a year.

I'm not sure I'll look back on 2011 with many fond memories. For reasons that aren't completely clear to me, this year has been one of my most difficult.

Lots of great things happened. Lots of changes.

My little sister, Kathryn, got married. Two of my good friends also got married. I went home for a pseudo-ten-year reunion. My little brother, James, got his mission call -- Benin, Cotonou. Ever heard of it? Us neither.

My sister, Christine, got engaged. I went to my first country concert -- Sugarland. I kind of enjoyed it. DON'T get your hopes up, country fans. I only kind of enjoyed it. My godniece started walking.

I finally found the perfect peppermint ice cream -- Schwan's. Me oh my, it's divine. My ward basketball team took second in Regionals. Yes, I wore the tattoo sleeve the entire season.

Just recently I got an ovation for bearing my testimony at a Relief Society activity. What? It happens to Glenn Beck all the time. I may or may not have strongly hinted that I wanted one -- is that wrong...?

You would think with all these things going on that the year wouldn't have been such a struggle. But it was. And it's taking its toll. Ladies and gentleman, I got my first A-.

Not ever, people. I'm not nearly as brilliant as everyone thinks I am. First this go-round -- in purportedly the easiest technical elective offered by the mechanical engineering department. People who don't even go to class get A's. And I went to class. Apparently that was my first mistake...

I thought graduating would be easier this time. Unfortunately, 4 more grueling years of school and $25,000 in tuition haven't given me much more of an idea of what I want to do. I am, once again, directionless. There was a part of me that thought that companies would line up to hire me, a female mechanical engineering student with a 4.0...well...a 3.99 now. I was hoping I wouldn't have to pursue a course of action because it would be pursuing me. Huh, I think I just summed up my whole life-philosophy...think about it, it explains a lot.

Back to engineering -- it's not that I dislike it, I'm just not sure I'll be any good at it. My GPA is misleading. All it means is I'm organized. And brilliant.

Who knows what 2012 will bring but here's hoping it'll be a sweet job in a sweet location where I'll meet a sweet, sweet, sexy man. We don't even have to get married. I'm pretty sure that just dating one for a couple months will cheer me right up.

Holiday grumps.

 

I realized tonight that I get end-of-the-year holiday grumps.

Around this time I've been in school for 4 months, finals are coming up, and there's HalloweenThanksgivingChristmasNewYears - all in 2 months and 2 days. The holidays make me miss my family.

I know. No one wants to read yet another post about how much someone loves their family. It's just...I don't get to see them that often. I went home a lot this year -- four times come Christmas, in fact -- but it still doesn't seem like enough. Not this time of year.

Maybe it's on my mind because most of my friends are from around here. They have holiday parties and Sunday dinner and people who come listen to them speak in church and take them shopping and help when their car needs a-fixin'. Gripe. Gripe. Gripe. Don't get me wrong. I'm pretty well taken care of here. Some of my friends' families have been more than gracious to me, and I will love them forever for it...but it's different somehow. I will always be an outsider in someone else's family; always relying on their charitable feelings towards me. I would much rather abuse them like I can my own family.

Families are funny, aren't they? I guess I can't speak for yours, but mine is. I don't talk to them very often...oh, once a month or so -- we're awful communicators -- but somehow they get me. Without knowing many of my life's tedious details, they get me.

I am instantly comfortable with them.

We go well together, my family and me. No, they're not perfect. In fact, we're slightly dysfunctional but gosh, they're fun to be with. So yes, I miss them. And I think about going home constantly. And I'm sorry if you hate this post but it's written and it's going public, so shaddapa you face.